


Indelible Intimacy

by Euny_Sloane, Melibe



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bottom Beelzebub (Good Omens), Dirty Talk, He/Him Pronouns For Gabriel (Good Omens), Ineffable Bureaucracy, Interagency Romance, Light Dom/sub, Nonbinary Beelzebub (Good Omens), Other, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sartorial Crimes, Size Kink, Spanking, They/Them Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), Top Gabriel (Good Omens), a little plot anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:21:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25128442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Euny_Sloane/pseuds/Euny_Sloane, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melibe/pseuds/Melibe
Summary: Beelzebub knows how to get what they want from the Archangel fucking Gabriel, which is mostly fucking the Archangel Gabriel. Sure, he knows they provoke him on purpose, but would they ever actually try to get him to spank them? They definitely don't plan to say. Fortunately that doesn't stop them both from getting everything they want.
Relationships: Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 95





	Indelible Intimacy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seekwill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekwill/gifts), [TheFallenCaryatid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFallenCaryatid/gifts).



> A gift for our lovely friends, [Seekwill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekwill/pseuds/seekwill/works) and [TheFallenCaryatid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFallenCaryatid/pseuds/GoodbyeVanny/works) for the brilliant idea that Beelzebub would improve on Gabriel’s wardrobe and [an inspirational drawing of the shirt](https://www.instagram.com/p/CCTcVKyFCEP/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link) in question.  
> Thanks as always to the inspiration of a friendly server for instigating crack ideas for us to take seriously.

Beelzebub was extremely proud of their work. It was an artistic masterpiece, and should probably be hanging in a museum.

Then again, if it were in a museum, they wouldn’t be enjoying the expression on Gabriel’s face as he turned in front of the mirror and saw for the first time what was drawn in permanent marker on the back of his favorite dress shirt.

Beelzebub had started by scrawling “WANK WINGZ” in nice big capitals, but that didn’t seem explicit enough, so they’d drawn a pair of dicks sprouting from the shoulders. Those weren’t exactly wing-shaped, so they added more dicks until they achieved the correct proportions.

Then they felt like claiming ownership of both their artwork and the body it would be hanging on, so they’d drawn a caricature of themselves with an arrow pointing butt-ward and the clarifying text, “MINE.”

In retrospect, signing their opus may not have been the best idea. They watched in the mirror as Gabriel’s eyebrows knit together and frown lines pulled down the corners of his mouth. It would be pretty difficult to play innocent.

But that didn’t stop them from trying. “Nice shirt,” they said, leaning back in the sleek leather chair that graced one corner of Gabriel’s bedroom. What a prat, staging a fucking designer chair in here. And of course it was _white_. “When did you get it?”

Gabriel met their eyes in the mirror. His face had gone dark and heavy, the way clouds pile up before a storm. They bit their lip and looked away, grabbing a magazine from the side table, half wondering why he kept magazines on a side table. Had he just snapped his fingers and copied a bedroom from some modern homes show?

“Beelzebub.”

Shit, he was using _that_ voice. It wasn’t quite angry, but it was stern. That voice expected to be listened to. That voice hinted at impending disciplinary action if it was _not_ listened to.

Beelzebub turned a page of Better Homes and Gardens.

“Lord of the Flies.”

And now he was using their full title. Oh yes, the shirt had been an excellent idea. They heard footsteps as he crossed from the mirror to the chair, and they could see his legs out of the corner of their eye, just a few inches away.

“Prince of Hell.”

Beelzebub turned another page. A large hand plucked the magazine from their fingers and set it back on the table. Then the hand took their chin between thumb and forefinger and exerted enough pressure that they had to look up at Gabriel. His face was implacable, unamused. Lightning flashed behind his eyes.

Beelzebub crossed their legs and licked their lips.

Gabriel leaned down, his words like quiet claps of thunder. “Little demon, you are in very big trouble.”

“Oh?” Beelzebub resisted the urge to swallow. This was what they’d been angling for. They couldn’t back out now.

“I think you have something to apologize for.” His eyes were flinty. Beelzebub glanced, without intending to, at his lips. They were set in a hard line. Beelzebub wanted to bite them.

Instead, they glared back at Gabriel belligerently. They hadn’t gone to all that artistic trouble to _apologize._ They could have done that for free.

Gabriel tightened his grip on their chin. “You’re going to make this right one way or another. Do yourself a favor and apologize, now.”

Something inside Beelzebub twisted and flipped over. They felt their pulse start to beat, hard, between their thighs. Even after several years of these liaisons, their reaction to Gabriel’s righteous anger still shocked them.

They gestured at his shirt. “For that? You should be thanking me. It’s art.”

He must have noticed his effect on them, because a glittering smile replaced the thin line of his mouth. “My little Prince of Hell, you are going to be very, very sorry, and then you are going to apologize.”

 _I fucking better be sorry for days_ , thought Beelzebub.

They said, “Make me, _wankwings._ ”

Gabriel released their chin suddenly, and Beelzebub fell back in the chair. Then his arms came around their middle and he hoisted them, kicking and flailing, over his shoulder. “Fuck you!” they shouted. “You stuffy prick, put me the fuck down.”

Gabriel laughed, a tight and satisfied sound, and collected their ankles neatly in one hand as he turned toward the bed.

Beelzebub decided it wasn’t worth fighting hard enough to get out of this, _as if they really wanted to get out of this_. They realized that they had a great, if upside-down, view of their handiwork.

“You’re right,” they observed. “I do have something to apologize for. I think it’s slightly off center.”

Gabriel released a frustrated growl and reached the bed in two long steps. He tossed Beelzebub onto it, their slight body landing with a bounce.

They bent one elbow to pillow their head on their arm, deliberately nonchalant despite their pounding heart and the lightheadedness from being slung over Gabriel’s shoulder. They drawled, “You know, I think the beds are nicer in Heaven.”

“That must be why you always make the most trouble here.”

Beez barked out a laugh. Gabriel loomed over them. “Last chance, Beelzebub.”

“That art is an _improvement,_ ” they sneered.

“You’re the one who needs improvement, Prince _._ ”

“Fuck you, _Archangel,_ ” said Beelzebub with a slow, shit-eating grin. The morning was going even better than expected.

Gabriel grabbed their calf, dragging them back towards him on the bed. _Oh this is fun,_ Beelzebub thought, and rolled over for better purchase, making fists in the blankets. Either he’d have to work harder to get them, or they’d mess up his perfect bed. The bed he’d just _had_ to roust them out of, to make it up as the proper start to his day.

And then a broad hand came down, more shocking than hard, on their backside, with a sharp rejoinder to “Let. Go.”

Beelzebub laughed again. “What for?”

His hand came down harder, this time on their thigh, and in their surprise, Beelzebub let go of the bedclothes. Anchoring point gone, Gabriel easily scooped them up, before sitting on the edge of the bed and settling them over his lap. Beelzebub squirmed. His voice, steely and disapproving, cut into them, stirring embers deep in their belly.

“Keep still. You started this, Beelzebub.”

They felt like a ragdoll in his arms, always had, since the first time he’d lifted them up and fucked them against his office wall, the holy surface a stinging warmth against Beelzebub’s back.

Their cheek pressed into his disgustingly soft duvet. They tried to sharpen the sarcastic bite in their voice, but when they said, “Angels have no sense of humor,” it came out breathy instead.

Gabriel muttered, “If I didn’t have a sense of humor, I’d smite you for this.”

Beelzebub craned their neck around to look up at him. “I’d like to see you try.”

His eyes darkened again, and his hand came down hard on their ass, exposed to the air. The undershirt they’d pinched from him had rucked up when he'd pulled them across his lap, and their belly lay bare against his trousers. They’d meant to keep quiet, but the blow was so sudden it made them yelp.

“Don’t tell me you weren’t expecting this.” Another smack landed, his broad hand stinging across both ass cheeks. “Don’t tell me you weren’t _begging_ for this.” He struck again and it took all Beelzebub’s willpower not to whimper.

“In fact,” said Gabriel thoughtfully, pausing to rub the skin that was already sore and tingling. “I think you ought to thank me for it.”

Beelzebub scoffed, despite the heat coiling tighter and tighter in their gut, despite the wetness seeping between their thighs. Their hands scrabbled for purchase against his leg, slipping on fine linen. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you fucking prat.”

They expected to get another smack, but Gabriel gave their ass a gentle squeeze and leaned down over them. His voice came low and liquid, close to their ear, “So would you, little Prince.”

Beelzebub wanted to deny it. They were _going_ to deny it, the denial was on the tip of their tongue when Gabriel straightened up and spanked them again, delivering a series of blows to their ass and the backs of their thighs that had them kicking the air and gasping for breath, their face flushing as hot as the skin under his hand.

“So,” he said conversationally. “An expression of gratitude, and an apology. Let me know when you’re ready.”

Panting, Beelzebub pulled their thoughts together, groped for something intelligent to say, but only managed a hoarse, “Fuck you.” And shit, it sounded like a plea, not a barb.

“Hm. Not quite ready, then,” said Gabriel, and picked back up where he’d left off. The pause and return made the blows feel sharper, stinging against skin they knew had to be glowing red under his palms. They felt so wet, so hungry. They wanted to rub against something, anything, and after one particularly hard smack, their hips canted forward, finding no purchase. They couldn’t hold back a sob, acutely aware of the heat blazing on their ass and in their slick, aching cunt.

Gabriel paused again, and in the quiet room, Beelzebub could hear that his own breaths had grown rapid, tumbling over one another. They’d bet he was hard already. He had to be. The thought, _He’d better be_ , was cut off sharply when Gabriel’s fingers slipped between their thighs and rubbed their swollen clit, rolling and pinching it before pulling away. Beelzebub’s hips jerked and they whimpered.

Gabriel sounded disgustingly self-satisfied. “Oh, I think you’re ready, Beelzebub.” He purred, “So, so ready.”

His hand stroked meditatively across Beelzebub’s sore backside and raw thighs as he repeated his request. “Say thank you, and apologize, and I’ll give you what you need. Hm?”

Demons knew deals and bargains, and Beelzebub had known this one before invoking it this morning. If they wanted him, hard and full within them, this was going to be the cost. They sucked in a breath, tried a snide, “Thank you” on for size, but it was toothless.

“Oh, that’s nice. See? You _can_ be polite, with the correct motivation.” He slipped a finger back down between the folds of their cunt, and drew lazy circles around their clit.

Beelzebub had to bite their lip to keep from moaning.

“And the apology? For the shirt? Two more words. You can manage that, can’t you? Even a demon should be able to manage something that simple.”

Beelzebub gritted their teeth. Contract or no contract, after that taunt, there was no way they were saying sorry. No fucking way. But they couldn’t catch their breath to jeer back at him. Grinding onto his hand to seek their pleasure and trying not to moan, needy and open, took all their concentration.

Gabriel sighed with clear exasperation. “Beelzebub, you always make things so difficult for yourself.” And then he was lifting them off his lap, settling them on their sore bottom on the bed. The duvet didn’t feel so soft on their cheeks now. But even as they shifted with discomfort, they were pleased to think that they were leaving a wet spot behind. They wondered, with some high, distant, still coherent part of their thoughts, if he would keep the bed like that, so the smell of Beelzebub’s cunt would slowly permeate his odorless immaculate room.

He _was_ hard. Beelzebub could see the thick bulge through the perfectly tailored trousers that left nothing to the imagination. It made them want to squeeze their thighs together--made them want even more to spread their knees wide and beg.

Gabriel ran a hand from Beelzebub’s knee down along their calf to their slim ankle. Then he moved away to unfasten his trousers, stepping out of them and laying them neatly across the chair, folded on the pleats, his boxers set on the seat below. Beelzebub, leaning back on their elbows as they watched him, had a fleeting, inexplicable urge to run. On another day, they’d have to try giving in to that impulse, see where it took them.

When Gabriel stood in front of them again, still wearing the damn shirt, he wasted no time. He tugged their hips closer and held their knee down with one hand while his other parted their lips, lining his cock up against their slit. “Fuck, Beelzebub. You need it so badly, don’t you?”

Beelzebub was relieved he didn’t wait for an answer, just slid in slowly, every moment lighting up their nerve endings as he filled them, stretched them, and their breath ran out in a low, aching sound.

“God, you’re so wet,” he marveled, keeping one hand on their hips, the other sliding up their body, beneath the undershirt, covering them in gentle caresses to contrast his earlier rough treatment. He stood still, buried to the hilt in their cunt, as his fingertips traced patterns over their chest.

Impatient for more, Beelzebub braced their arms on the mattress and shoved their hips toward Gabriel. The movement scraped their raw backside against the duvet. The flare of sensation punched a guttural sound from their throat and sent a rush of heat directly to their cunt, which spasmed around Gabriel’s cock.

Gabriel tightened his grip, holding them in place as he pulled most of the way out. “Are you too sore for this?” he asked, with concern that almost sounded genuine. “Shall I stop?”

In answer, Beelzebub, heedless of the chafe of fine fabric against their bottom, gritted their teeth and pushed towards him again. “You wouldn’t fucking dare.”

Beelzebub could have heard the grin in his voice, even if they couldn’t see it on his face, when he said, “Try me sometime.” But he pressed back into them, and found a rhythm that sent lines of fire along Beelzebub’s thighs as they shifted against the mattress with his thrusts. They arched their back a little, and his hand slid around to catch at their bottom, just below the curve of their back. He dug his fingers into the skin there. Beelzebub couldn’t have even said if it hurt, only that it was so intense, so much, and they cried out, feeling themself rising toward the crest of their climax.

Gabriel stopped moving.

They gasped, lifted their head to ask, “Wh...what the fuck?”

“You still owe me an apology.”

“You’re...you can’t be seri--” He shifted briefly inside them, and they released a half-bitten moan in response.

“Oh, I am serious. And...” he thrust again, his voice dropping into a register familiar to Beelzebub from all of their most satisfying encounters. “I think you’re ready to apologize, Prince of Hell.”

They absolutely fucking weren’t, but it was clear from the adamantine glint in his eye that unless they conceded, they were going to be stuck like this, sweating on the edge, until they had a moment’s privacy this afternoon. And there was a thrill to it, had always been a thrill to losing to Gabriel, throwing themself against his will to see who would crack first.

Beelzebub gripped the sheets in their fists, let their head fall back to the bed. “Fine. Whatever.”

Gabriel just hummed expectantly.

They muttered, “Sorry.”

He raised one eyebrow. His fingers joined his cock between their thighs, grazing against their clit with just-right pressure. Beelzebub shuddered. Quicker than they’d expected, their orgasm was building again, and--

Gabriel took his hand away. They shrieked in outrage, and he smiled. “What are you sorry for?”

“I’m sorry I ever met you,” they seethed, writhing uselessly where he held them pinned to the bed. He reached forward and pinched one of their nipples. The sudden spark of sensation made their toes curl.

“All right, all right! You fucking prick.” Beelzebub took a deep, shaky breath, then rolled their eyes and said in an adolescent singsong, “I’m sorry that I drew on your stupid shirt.”

Gabriel chuckled. “We’ll work on your delivery another time.” And then he was moving in them again, _finally_ , the friction in their cunt and the friction under them a counterpoint in sensation. With barely a pause, he grabbed a pillow to shove under their hips, and the way his cock sunk deeper with the shift in angle tore sounds out of them they hadn’t realized they’d been holding back.

His own voice yielded answering sounds of surrender to the imperative feelings rising in both of them, feelings that had driven them from casual, insult-ridden makeouts in their offices to throwing caution and appearances aside to stay up late, arguing and drinking and eventually fucking loud enough to wake complaints from Gabriel’s angelic neighbors. Michael glared at Beelzebub harder than ever these days, although Uriel looked somewhere between amused and grudgingly impressed.

Beelzebub guessed Gabriel’s shitty neighbors were all away at their offices by now, but hoped they weren’t, as they heard their own cries rising sharp and insistent, Gabriel’s breaths coming quick and ragged, with short moans tacked on to the end of them. They wanted to feel those moans against their own lips, to bite down on something pliant and drag harsher sounds out of him, to move him to fuck them harder, until the ache in their bottom and the stretch in their cunt threw them over the edge.

Voice high and strained, Beelzebub called his name, a broken word, to get his attention. His violet eyes with those offensively long lashes had drifted shut, but he opened them at once to gaze down at Beelzebub, something tender having risen to the surface while he’d been buried inside their cunt.

He breathed their name, a question. “Beelzebub?”

They grabbed onto his forearms where he held their hips, digging their fingers into the tendons there, pulling desperately. They couldn’t hope to actually shift him down, it would be like trying to shift a marble statue, but they yanked anyway, struggling to form words with their needy cries.

“Want--I want--” They weren’t going to say _please_. They’d already said _thank you_ and _I’m sorry_ and that was enough civility for one morning. “I need--”

“What is it, little Prince?” Gabriel followed their tugging, leaned down over them with his arms on the bed, bracketing their head. “What is it you need?”

Beelzebub moved their hands to grip the sides of his face, feeling the sweat that had gathered at his temples, and pulled just as uselessly. “I need--” All of Gabriel’s movement had stilled as he stayed buried inside them, eyes focused intently on theirs, breathing hard but with a tiny smile at the corners of his lips.

 _Fuck it_. “Please, Gabriel, please!”

He surged forward at once, pressing his mouth to Beelzebub’s, hot and open and just as desperate as they were. He fucked into them and their foreheads briefly clashed together and Beelzebub didn’t care. They didn’t care about the scrape of the duvet on their thighs or the ringing feeling in their skull or the way they’d just begged the Archangel fucking Gabriel to kiss them, because the feel of his lips under their teeth, the press of his tongue echoing the way his cock was filling them, had them pulling back the next moment, their mouth opening in a wail, their feet arching and their muscles tensing hard around him.

He groaned, “Yes, fuck, yes…” and he rutted into them, movements desperate, erratic, until his mouth opened in a ringing moan that crested over Beelzebub’s wail of release.

Gabriel left one steadying hand pressed into the mattress next to them while he caught his breath. Beelzebub rose up and dragged him into another kiss, their tongue licking into his mouth. They wished they could taste their own slick release, or his, in that kiss. They wanted to linger and make that desire real, but there wasn’t time and they knew it.

He took a shuddering breath, dropped out of the kiss, and rested his head gently on Beelzebub’s chest, which was still rising in an unsteady rhythm, breaths pushing out of them, panting, undone. Beelzebub had taken months to admit that they wanted this too, wanted to curl back into bed with him and drift off to sleep after they fucked.

Sleeping and fucking, two things the angel had been absolutely no good at until Beelzebub had taught him how.

But Gabriel was too responsible to blow off work and spend the day in bed, and Beelzebub knew that. Liked it, even, though they’d never say so. Their duties were different in kind if not in number, and in their own way they were no less dedicated than Gabriel, but that didn’t stop them from ribbing him mercilessly about being whipped by something as flimsy as paperwork.

Although, the last time they’d commented on it, he’d responded with a quiet, appraising look that made their stomach flop and squirm, and they had a feeling that if they mentioned it again he was going to say something like, _And what do you prefer to be whipped by, hmm?_

Beelzebub sighed and closed their eyes, savoring the scent of the angel for as long as they could. The two of them breathed together, slowing, syncing, until Gabriel regretfully disentangled. He stepped back into his slacks and tucked in his artfully desecrated shirt. “Well, I’d better get to the office.”

Beelzebub stared at him in disbelief. “You’re wearing that?”

He smiled. “I like it.”

“You like it?” Beelzebub sat up indignantly, winced at the sting in their ass, and rose up onto their knees. “After all that, you fucking _like_ it?”

Gabriel stepped close to them, cupping their cheek. “Yes. I like you, and you made it for me.”

Beelzebub turned their face, nuzzling into his hand. What a sentimental freak.

“And I want you to wear this,” he added, hooking one finger into the v-neck of the undershirt they still wore.

Beelzebub liked the idea of claiming his shirt, taking their theft with them back to Hell, wearing it under their suit all day. “Yeah. Sure.”

“ _Only_ this.”

Their head snapped around so they could stare into his eyes. They were less shocked by the thought itself than by the fact that Gabriel--stuffy, play-by-the-rules Archangel Gabriel--had suggested it. “Do you realize--shit, I mean, if I sit down...”

Gabriel leaned over so his mouth was next to their ear, his breath hot on the side of their neck. “You won’t be able to sit down,” he said with smug certainty, his hand reaching around to pat their ass, and even that light touch made them hiss with sensitivity.

Beelzebub sneered, in lieu of admitting his point.

It was fine. They could waltz out of here wearing nothing but Gabriel’s undershirt. After all, they didn’t care what Heaven thought of them. Demons didn’t do shame. Certainly not over defiling an angel. And when they got to Hell, they’d dress properly; it’s not like Gabriel would know.

Later, as Beelzebub buttoned up their jacket in their office, they had a keen, desperate hope that Gabriel wouldn’t stop by unexpectedly that afternoon. Especially not if he’d discovered the necktie that Beelzebub had improved upon. Probably he wouldn’t see it for a couple of weeks.

Plenty of time for Gabriel to cool off, before he found the tie embellished with an arrow pointing downwards and the words “Heaven’s biggest dick” in Beelzebub’s untidy scrawl. Shifting their stance and feeling the lingering ache in their cunt, confirmation of the epithet on that tie, Beelzebub smiled to themselves. It would be worth it.


End file.
